


Saturation

by fedaykin, GenerallyHuxurious (GallifreyanOmnishambles)



Series: Modern Emperors [11]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hair-pulling, Hux can't lie to himself, Hux is vain, Huxcest, M/M, Self-cest, Teasing, When AUs collide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fedaykin/pseuds/fedaykin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/pseuds/GenerallyHuxurious
Summary: Hux has a secret. It's vain and a bit embarrassing. But when your duplicate self is living with you, it's only a matter of time before they notice...(Modern Emperors AU - Canon Hux/Modern Hux)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GenerallyHuxurious (GallifreyanOmnishambles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/gifts).



> Originally posted to tumblr as a gift for GenerallyHuxurious, now added here to our series.

“Why is your hair so different from mine?”

Eamon didn’t even look up from his phone. “Nutrition,” he deadpanned.

“My hair has cycled through several times since I’ve been here.”

“I use better hair products.”

Auren scoffed, “That’s a lie.”

“I have better grooming habits,” he tried not to make it sound like a question and steered it directly into an unintentional insult.

He could feel Auren’s eyes boring into the side of his head, “You’re reaching.”

“Your hair is fine.”

“Of course my hair is fine. It’s yours that’s not.”

Eamon was not prepared for this direct line of questioning. He couldn’t even remember what he was trying to do on his phone anymore, he was completely derailed from his thoughts. Desperately, he called upon every ounce of his training to maintain his nonchalance. He absently brought up his email, pretending to scan it. _Nice save?_

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Eamon replied.

Auren was suddenly close, too close, and he felt a hand in his hair, fingers brushing along his scalp. Auren’s voice was in his ear, “My hair is just as soft as yours, but your hair is so much more vibrant. Why?”

 _Fuck._ “I don’t know.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-_ “I’m just trying to… “ the fingers in his hair began to tighten “… reply to an e-mail.”

The fingers clenched and Eamon was forced to close his eyes as his head was jerked to the side. Every nerve in his body was screaming, reacting to the lips against his ear, the commanding voice, and the tugs against his scalp. He would not give in. Eamon opened his eyes and resumed his feint at productivity.

He felt fingernails drag deliciously across his skin before they pulled at the roots again, “Look at me.”

 _I can do this_. Eamon turned to look at Auren, their faces separated by only a few inches, “What?”

“Why is your hair a different shade?”

“I don’t know.”

Eamon watched Auren’s face twitch with a hint of a smile, “You’re lying.”

 _Fucking fuck._ “I’m not.”

“I know what we look like when we lie,” Auren said, pulling Eamon’s phone from his hands to set it on the coffee table.

Eamon was certain he was sweating. “Why would I lie?”

“Hmm, why indeed?” Auren shifted closer, straddling him on the couch. Now there were two hands carding through his hair, soothing and pulling in turns. It was too perfect. Their foreheads rested together, their noses touching at the tips. “Why is -” Auren lightly rolled his hips “- your hair -” both hands pulled at his strands “- a different shade?”

“Why is it so important?” Eamon almost moaned.

“It wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t tried to lie.”

Eamon pulled back and sighed, “I don’t even know why I bother trying.”

Auren continued looking at him expectantly, slowly grinding down on Eamon’s lap, his lips so close but the pulls on his hair kept Auren just out of reach.

“I’ll never tell,” Eamon said, a devious smile playing across his lips. 

“I can make you talk.”

“Oh, I know you can.”

“Is that an invitation, then?” Auren replied, his face showing amusement and a hint of something dangerous.

He shrugged, “I’m curious to see just how badly you want this information.” Eamon slid his hands under the back of Auren’s shirt, feeling the smooth skin until his right hand found the scar and he playfully traced it with a fingernail.

Auren smiled and leaned in, Eamon eagerly surging forward to capture those lips with his-

Two hands roughly pushed Eamon back into the couch, “I don’t need to know that much.”

Auren began to climb off his lap when Eamon whined and slid his arms under those thighs and lifted. They may have the same body, but Eamon’s job depended greatly on physical attributes and that made picking Auren up easy. He lowered him down onto the couch a touch slower than needed, shamelessly continuing to show off his strength, that he could place Auren there instead of just tossing him.

Eamon could read traces of admiration and lust, but there was still an overwhelming amount of indignation on Auren’s face. Despite his display of strength, he was going to have to confess if he wanted this to progress any further. Auren was too good at this game. He had to tell him. It was pointless to hide anything from each other. 

Grimacing, Eamon buried his head into Auren’s chest, “I… Sometimes, I… tint my hair.”

“You what?” Auren’s voice was higher-pitched than normal.

Eamon buried further into the skin, his lips firmly planted in the hollow of Auren’s chest. “I tint my hair with orange dye.”

Eamon felt the chest under him shudder for a moment and he looked up in surprise. Auren had a tight fist pressed against his mouth and let out a long exhale from his nose.

“Why?” was all Auren said as he lifted the fist away before immediately putting it back.

“I don’t know? I just did it once when I was younger and, and I liked how it looked? Fuck, I don’t even know anymore, ,” Eamon rambled, feeling his face grow hot.

Auren, to his credit, remained stoic, although his hand never left his mouth.

“I just do it. It makes me stand out a little bit more and you know I like the attention, it’s just another… It’s like you with your uniforms, my job is to look appealing, I need to get that attention, it makes my job easier...” Eamon trailed off and began to pull away. “You know what? This is stupid, I’m just going to -”

Two arms pulled him back down with a small chuckle, “I can’t believe you’re embarrassed.”

“Well, you’re laughing at me!”

“I’m laughing at your reactions, you ridiculous thing.”

Eamon collapsed dramatically onto Auren’s body, “You’ve wounded me, I’ll never recover.”

“A pity.”

Eamon peeked up and smiled, his apparently too-orange locks falling over his face.

Beneath him Auren shifted slightly, easing their bodies into fitting together just right, one ankle looping over Eamon’s own to hold him in place as Auren reached up towards his hair again. Auren’s eyes softened slightly, the sort of subtle change that he had learned to read. It was an obvious to him now as a grin, even though others might never recognise it as anything at all.

“It suits us…” Auren said, pushing the strands back from Eamon’s face, his lips twitching when they inevitably fell back into disarray. “No… it suits _you_.”

“I… uh…” Eamon gaped, unsure how to respond to this uncharacteristic othering of themselves.

“I’m sure that _I_ wouldn’t succumb to such vanity.” Auren concluded with a smirk, his eyes glittering with a hint of challenge.

Eamon failed to hide his amusement. “You bastard.”

Auren raised an eyebrow at the insult/truth but hissed before he could reply. Eamon’s hands had returned to the inside of his shirt, sliding up his torso to tug a little cruelly at his chest hair.

“ _You_ ’d need two bottles of dye anyway, " Eamon said with a laugh that turned into a sigh when Auren retaliated with twisting grip to the hair at the nape of his neck. His Likeness’s other hand came up to grip his ass, holding him firmly in place as Auren rutted up against him from below. A tongue worked insistently along his lower lip, demanding immediate admission.

So, that was new.

He knew that Auren was aware of his… particular… reaction to having his own hair pulled, he’d made excellent use of it in their first encounter and many more since, but Auren was always so fastidious with his own hair Eamon had always assumed there was no corresponding reaction. Apparently he’d just been focusing on the wrong hair.

Leaving his left hand to tug and smooth across Auren’s chest, his right returned to the scar, tracing the twisted skin while his mind quietly catalogued the textures that made Auren uniquely him. The slightly crisp curl of the hair Eamon had always diligently shaved from his own chest, the gnarled and shiny scar encircling the soft shoulder under his fingertips, the smell of thickly applied hair gel, the way one of the five digits kneading his ass exerted less pressure than the others, the lingering taste of the salt and peroxide that Auren still insisted on using to brush his teeth.

They were small things, things that could be changed, things he could emulate if he wanted but he was happy merely to observe. They weren’t quite examples of their individuality as it was extensions of themselves. They were not two overlapping circles of a Venn diagram, but more of an infinite loop, always flowing. The differences only showed how fluid they could be.

Sinking deeper into the kiss, enjoying each tiny sound they made, Eamon slowly became aware that Auren’s thumb was tracing a repeating path along his jaw line, smoothing through his hair before drawing slight circles along his sideburns and finally rasping the nail against his stubble. Another difference. Clearly Auren appreciated them too.

The hand on his ass tightened.

Auren broke the kiss for a moment to mumble, “Bed.” He pushed up against Eamon, his tongue returning to its study of Eamon’s teeth while the rest of him tried to urge them to their feet.

Eamon blinked, confused.

“What’s wrong with the couch?” He asked, pulling back enough to see Auren but unwilling to shift his weight just yet.

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with the couch,” Auren replied. He blinked languidly and Eamon suddenly realised his eyes were very, _very_ green. _Fuck._ “But there’s no mirror in here.”

Eamon felt almost hypnotised by that gaze.

“I have an overwhelming urge to take my time finding out whether you’ve changed anything else about our body and then,” Auren smiled that rare smile that consisted entirely of teeth and hunger and danger. “And then, I want to spend just as much time on studying _exactly_ what it looks like when it’s utterly _wrecked._ ”

Eamon shuddered as he half fell off the couch in his haste to get up the stairs.

“ _Fuck me…_ ” He moaned, under his breath when Auren followed with predator grace.

“That was the plan, yes.” Auren smirked.

Eamon would have retorted at the deliberate misunderstanding of his exclamation, but Auren was already back in his space, crowding him up the stairs with grasping touches and eager kisses. Eamon smiled and hoped he’d survive. After all, if Auren wanted a study, he’d have to collect lots of data.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> In my defense, it took Auren a long time to realize that Eamon's hair was different XD it's very subtle -fedaykin


End file.
